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2002-06-29 - 12:58 a.m. aaaarrrrgggggg!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! i'm frusfuckingstrated right now. i bailed on steve's in the name of art. i started a new project, and i got a bit carried away, as i'm apt to do. so, here i am, at 1am, and i've hit a wall. sleep? yeah right. sex? more than likely. thank god for that at least. two words: coffee table. don't ask, cuz i won't tell. i'm a broken record. matt, sex, shyness, matt, sex, shyness. then to top it all off, i fucking whine about it all. such a dick. i'm pist. like, throw something through a window pist. it's the passionate artiste' in his angry youngish man period. thank god for this thing. seriously. i'm feeling lonely, and, angry, and stuck. that's all you need to know. i often wonder, is there like a cut off age for this? you know those horrible teenage years, when everything was fucked, and nothing helped? everything was so...serious, and permanent. when does that end? when do those black moods stop? this is what i get for dredging up old shit that's best left undredged. serves me fucking right. looking back is for chumps. does it ever do any good? probably, sometimes. but don't point that out. i'm on a roll. nobody knows the trouble i've seeeen...kidding. totally kidding. we haven't reached spiritual singing stage yet. once again, thank god. i need to grow up. seriously. i'm in full on hissy fit mode. i just hate when i've got an idea, and i can't make it work. i conceptualize, and i can't bring it to fruition. ooh la la. lookit me. i'm using them there high falootin' words. why do i always beat myself up for feeling the way i do? oh, jesus. let's not go there. bad, bad idea. i'm going to go wake up my boyfriend, and either ask him to talk. about stuff that i need to talk about, but haven't as of yet been able to. OR, i'll wake him up, chicken out, and fuck him silly instead. i won't know which til i wake him up. one day, i'll be able to talk to people. REALLY talk to them. i never got to do that growing up. everybody else yelled and screamed. things were thrown, broken. me? no. that wasn't my role. i didn't get to be the loud one. i had to be the calm one. the fixer, the cleaner, the sucker. when i did try to complain, or express myself, all i got was, "you think you have it bad? what about me". my thunder was always being stolen. so, i just stopped talking. nobody noticed. so now, sometimes i wonder, how do i get my groove back? how the fuck do i get it back, when i never had it to begin with?????????????????????????????????????wow, gotta go |
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